“Eomma, Appa, I’m here – your son, Howon,” a young man, dressed formally in a black suit that was stretched tightly across his broad shoulders, did a ninety degrees bow.  His angular features were solemn as he kneeled down carefully and placed a large bouquet of flowers wrapped in purple crepe paper before one of the thousands of tombstones covering the cemetery-designated hill.

He pulled out a small broom from a basket he had carried with him and busied himself cleaning up the grave.  As he swept, he chatted comfortably aloud.  “How are the both of you faring in heaven?  Life must be good up there, right?  At least better than here; the economy has been unstable lately and a lot of people being fired. 

You must both be watching over me, right?  Otherwise how else would I have been so lucky to be able to keep mine.”

When he was satisfied with the condition of the grave, Howon finally lay down on the patch of grass, careful not to accidentally lie on adjacent graves.

The morning sun was veiled by thin white clouds, making it still bearable to open his eyes as he picked out clouds in various shapes and forms.

“So many things have happened since I last visited,” he began, pulling out a long blade of grass and idly picking it apart. 

Methodically, he recounted every single event of importance.  By the time he was done, the blade of grass had been reduced to minute particles and carried away by the gentle late spring breezes.

It’s been 10 years, he marvels inwardly.  A decade without Eomma and Appa.  Somehow, he had survived it.

“Eo-eomma… A-appa…”  Surprised, Howon sat up and looked around, his senses all alert.  Was the sobbing just his imagination?  His doubts were clarified when sounds of someone hiccupping in tears floated towards him from behind a tombstone – new, Howon noted.

Cautiously he stood up and made his way to the sound source – not before brushing away soil and fallen leaves sticking to him – only to find a teenage boy curled up tightly in a ball.  He lifted his head as the older man approached him.

“You… okay?” Howon asked, unsure of how to react.

The boy blinked at him several times before answering weakly, “I-I-I… I don’t know.”

Something in the boy’s wide eyes tugged at Howon’s heart: the look of a hurt puppy, helpless and in pain. 

The boy reminded him of himself, of the constantly bullied Lee Howon whose best friend- Howon shook his head to clear the memories.

“Can I sit here?” he asked.  The boy gave a small nod, struggling up from his fetal position at the same time.

They sat there side by side, overlooking a valley of gravestones, each lost in his own thoughts.  The silence they shared was not uncomfortable; it was one of understanding.  Two boys who had gone through the same experience.  Two boys who had lost their entire world.

“I wish I had appreciated them more before they… left,” the boy said sadly in his soft voice.  “Do you know, I never once told them those simple words, ‘I love you’.  They passed away thinking I still resented them for being a shame to me.”

The boy started crying again.  Without thinking, Howon scooted closer to him and put an arm around his slight shoulders; the latter was in too much grief to feel awkward, instead automatically leaning into the older man’s embrace.

After some time, the tears subsided and boy continued to talk.  Howon listened silently, nodding every now and then.  He knew that letting everything out would make the boy feel better.

“They passed away a week ago.  The morning of that day, they called me.  At first, I didn’t want to pick up.  I hated their calls.  Eomma always nagged about taking care of myself and Appa always nagged about grades.  Then afterwards, my friends would tease me for being namby-pamby.

I really, really regret thinking that way… if I could go back, I would… but that doesn’t matter anymore, does it? 

All my regrets won’t change anything.  They’re still dead, and I’m still the worst son ever.” he released a shuddery breath.

“As usual, they nagged for a long time.  Before they hung up, they asked me if I could visit them in a week.

I knew a two-day school holiday was coming up, but at that time, I had forgotten why.  My friends and I had made plans to go to Lotte World and visit arcades, so of course I was annoyed at my parents for trying to ruin my fun.

I told them so, and my father scolded me angrily for being disobedient and not filial.  I too lost my temper and screamed into the phone that they never tried to understand me, always pulling me back.  Then I hung up first.

Later on that day, I received another call from my mother’s phone, then my father’s.  I was still upset, and by then, a little scared of what their mood might be like, so I just ignored the calls.”

“I remember it was the last lesson when an announcement came over the PA system, requesting me to see the Principal immediately.  I was so happy to be relieved of my boredom, but once I entered his office, I knew something was wrong right away.

The Principal’s expression was stern, like the other times I had gotten into trouble with my friends.  This time though, he also looked worried.

What happened next was all a… a blur to me.  Like a nightmare.  Surreal.  I only remember being led into a cold room with flawless white walls and a bright spotlight shining on a table.  When I peeled back the black sheet covering, I saw…” the boy broke off and buried his head into Howon’s shoulders, his entire body heaving.

Howon tentatively wrapped his arms around the shaking boy, his back rhythmically to calm him down.  “Shh, you don’t have to say it if you don’t want to…”

“If only I wasn’t so ungrateful.  If only I had agreed to visit them.  If only they just told me it was going to be Parents’ Day,” the boy choked, his fist pounding Howon’s broad chest, and Howon let him.  If it helped the boy, he could and would take any pain for him.  “If only they hadn’t quarreled over me.  If only I’d picked up, I might have been able to tell them I’m sorry and that I love them.  If only-”

“Hush now, don’t cry,” he murmured, pulling the boy closer to him to muffle his ‘if onlys’.  His heart ached for him, the younger brother he never had, the ghost of his past, the echo of who he was deep down. 

“It’s okay, everything will be alright.”  That was a blatant lie, and they both knew it. 

In their own ways, their parents had been their entire world, and now that they were gone, their life felt empty, like all its purpose had died with their parents.

“No it’s not,” the boy’s voice cracked with emotion.

Howon held the younger boy at an arm’s length and stared deep into his eyes.  “Yes, it can be,” he stated firmly, then wondered who he was trying to convince – the boy, or himself?

He spoke again, only this time that voice didn’t sound like his, it sounded like the wise, knowledgeable voice of someone he had known all those years ago.

“How am I supposed to live without them?  I thought I could, but I can’t, I really can’t.  I should just die and be buried with Eomma and Appa,” he cried out.

The old man only smiled softly and wiped away the tears streaking down his face with his callused fingers.  “I think your parents would be very happy to have such a filial son.”

Howon wanted to tell him, ‘They’re not my real parents’, but what was the use anyway?  It wouldn’t change the names of the couple listed as his ‘parents’ on his birth certificate.

“Your parents may be gone from this earth, but they are watching over you from the heavens above.  So live a good life and make them proud.  Live every single day purposefully.  That way, you will be able to thank your parents for the life they have gifted you with.”

Howon wanted to correct him, that he had already done something he was sure would make them hate him for eternity, but what was the use anyway?  It wouldn’t change the fingerprints on the metal bar stained with their biological son’s blood.

As if he had partially read the young boy’s mind, the old man smiled again.  “You think they won’t forgive you, right?  Your parents, they are like Buddha.  They will forgive you as long as you admit your sins to them.”

It was as if a light had been lit at the end of his dark tunnel. 

Howon wanted to ask if that was true, but the old man was already walking away, leaving behind a sea of purple dotting the grey stone slabs.

Suddenly, he had a purpose in his life again: to seek forgiveness.

They both must have fallen asleep sometime; the boy was clearly exhausted, both physically and emotionally.  Howon awoke to find the younger boy’s body curled against his, clinging onto him for strength.

He slowly detached himself and sat up, his eyes drinking in the hillside for the last time, memorizing every little detail, trying to etch this scene of grey dotted with purple, lastly resting on the gravestone with the bouquet of flowers.  In his heart, he bid a final farewell.

He let his eyes refocus on the black dot in the background.  It was a beaten-up black Audi someone had come here in but never took back, for a reason he didn’t want to even think about.

Then, he looked down at the child-like teenager.  It was like seeing himself from 10 years ago.  A past he was ready to separate himself from now.

He gently broke off a wild flower and eased it into the boy’s fist.

Goodbye, he silently said, touching the boy’s face before he stood up.  Never turn back.  He walked straight ahead with long, purposeful strides.

“You’re leaving?” he heard a sleepy voice ask.

Without turning around, he simply replied, “I’m Howon, Lee Howon.  They used to call me Hoya.”

He almost reached the car when a shout rang out.  “I’m Sunghyun, Woo Sunghyun.  They used to call me Kevin.”

And then he was in the car and driving away.

Eomma, Appa… Happy Parents’ Day.  Watch over Kevin for me; the person whom I once was.  Protect him as you would protect me, because he’s just like me.